Romance

My husband and I did not have a very romantic Valentine’s Day.

We were on the road before 8 in the morning, struggling through Philadelphia rush hour traffic and then halfway across Pennsylvania to my mom’s house. Of course, in spite of half a dozen conversations about the visit over the past few days, she had forgotten we were coming, so we had to spend some time soothing her.

After that, for a fun couples activity, my husband organized her pill boxes to carry her through the next several weeks while I sorted out her mail and wrote checks. He also got to spend time deflecting her from trying to feed me lunch at 10:30, or otherwise distracting me from getting her bills paid.

And then it was off to her bank and post office and pharmacy and grocery store, with a few quick home repairs to wrap up the visit; then back to New Jersey, hitting the outskirts of Philadelphia just in time for the afternoon rush hour. In short, my husband got to devote the whole day to helping out his mother-in-law; traffic jams on the Schuylkill Expressway were probably some of his pleasanter moments.

And he did it all cheerfully.

There are a lot of reasons I love him, but this is a sample of one reason. He is a genuinely good and giving and patient person.

And you know, that’s pretty romantic.

Paul, will you stay my Valentine?

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